Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
5
CAMRYN
“And if I refuse?” I place my hands on my hips.
After that disastrous meeting this morning, I’ve planted myself in Olivia’s office, and I’m not budging until I get some answers. It doesn’t matter that she’s six months pregnant; I’m not leaving this office until I’ve made my point.
“You’re not going to refuse.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, I know you, and you’ve never once in your life backed down from a challenge. And second, because I’m asking you to do this, Cam. As your friend.” She shrugs. “And as your boss.”
Olivia has been a good friend, my best friend for years. And I trust her, but this is going too far. Yes, she was there for me when I cut bangs and cried afterwards, and yes she helped me when I sprained my ankle on my birthday after too many cocktails…
I shake my head at her. “So I’m going to be babysitting Sterling for the next six months, helping him to what—date? This is ridiculous. I don’t think I can do this.”
“Did I mention the client has promised a ten-thousand-dollar bonus if you pull this off?” she adds sweetly.
Ten thousand dollars could change everything for me. I haven’t opened up and told Olivia about the whole deal because it’s kind of awkward when your BFF is a multimillionaire, but when my last boyfriend took off, he left me with a small mountain of debt. I cringe every time my phone rings, not knowing if it will be another call from a credit-card company. And now I’ve gotten myself two months behind on rent, just trying to pay the minimum on my credit-card bills.
I never imagined I’d be living like this, my stomach in cramps when I think of my financial landscape. Even worse? I don’t have any of the shiny things to show for the money spent. My ex disappeared with my heart, and everything else. A ten-thousand-dollar bonus could pay all of it off. I could start actually sleeping at night again instead of worrying how I’ll pay off the credit-card debt he left me.
“I’m listening.” I slump down into the firm leather chair in front of her desk.
Olivia places her elbows on the desk and leans in closer. “I knew you’d come around.”
“But seriously, how am I going to do this? I have no idea what Sterling wants in a wife, and I still have my other clients and projects to manage.”
Olivia leans back and places one hand on the firm, round bump of her belly, stroking lightly. Why does she have to be so adorable? It’s hard to stay mad at her.
“True. Well, I suppose you’ll have to spend some extra time with Sterling, figure out what he wants. And I’ll tell you what—with what the estate people are paying the firm, I think I can even cover the cost of an assistant for you. Would that help you manage?”
My very own assistant? A small smile graces my lips. “I like that idea. But the idea of hunting out candidates and interviewing . . .” I sigh.
“Problem solved. Anna’s firm is downsizing. She’d be perfect.”
Anna has been a close friend since the fourth grade. She’s someone I adore and trust. Plus, she’s super hardworking.
“I had no idea.”
Olivia nods. “She e-mailed me her résumé this morning. She just got wind of the corporate downsizing.”
“Wow. Tough luck.” I know Anna loves her job; she’s been there for years. But I also know she’d be valuable as an assistant. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
I head back to my office, intent on getting some work taken care of, but first I send a quick e-mail to Anna to set up an meeting for after work tonight.
Just as I begin editing the latest media-campaign graphics, a text on my phone snatches my attention, and I grab it to check the caller ID. It’s an unknown number, and I’m about to shove it back into my purse without answering. Probably another annoying bill collector. My ex needs his balls chopped off with a rusty butter knife.
Then I remember Sterling and I exchanged numbers after the meeting this morning.
When do we start?
No pleasantries, no hello, how are you? And on top of that, he just assumes I’m going to take the job. Which I am, but still. Before I can think up a witty reply, he sends another text.
I’m free tonight after work.
Worse than him assuming I’m going to drop everything and work for him, he assumes I have no life and can meet at the drop of a hat. The cocky jerk. My thumbs get busy typing out a reply.
I have plans tonight, sorry.
Who cares if it’s a white lie. I need at least twenty-four hours to figure out how in the world I’m going to do this. Without missing a beat, my phone chimes again.
Tomorrow night then.
I need tonight to get my act together. I know I can count on Anna to help me create a winning game plan. Then I’ll be ready to face Sterling, ready to face this fix-up assignment head-on.
I type out a reply.Fine.
His response comes through a moment later.Seven at La Brasso.
La Brasso is an upscale Italian restaurant that opened recently, and has been in the news because of some fancy chef and their long waiting list to even get a table. I have no idea how or why Sterling thinks we can get in tomorrow—Saturday night, of all nights—but I don’t argue. It will serve him right to find out his super powers don’t extend that far.
• • •
The second I open the door, Anna tackle-hugs me.
“Cam! It’s so good to see you.” When she pulls back and meets my gaze, she frowns. “You look tired, sweetie.” She pats my back.
“Thanks?” I chuckle and shake my head. “No, it’s just work. But that’s why you’re here.”
Anna makes herself comfortable, flopping down onto the plush Pottery Barn sofa I saved for and finally bought last year. But now with money being so tight, I feel guilty every time I sink into the blue microfiber fabric.
“I know, and I’m so excited we’re going to be working together. You and Olivia are really saving my behind.”
I sit down beside her. “You’re saving mine; trust me. This isn’t going to be a typical assignment, or easy.”
She smiles wide, the little gap between her front teeth endearingly lovable. “Olivia already filled me in. This is gonna be fun!”
There’s one thing you need to know about Anna. She is freaking adorable. Five foot one with bouncy honey-colored waves and an infectious, happy attitude. Seriously, she’s the best. And I have a feeling that if I survive the next six months, she will be the number-one reason why.
Anna grabs her purse that’s slumped at the floor near her feet and pulls out a stack of DVDs.
When I see that they’re seasons one through six of the show The Millionaire Matchmaker, I let out a shriek of laughter.
“Oh my God. You didn’t.”
Anna beams. “Oh yes, I did. We’re going to learn from the best, baby.”
I’m about to break the news that I don’t have a DVD player when I suddenly remember that David’s stash of crap in the hall closet includes a gaming system that I’m pretty sure plays DVDs.
“One sec.” A few minutes later, I scurry back with the contraption. “Courtesy of David the Douche.”
“Ugh. Why haven’t you burned this stuff? Or better yet, sold it?” Anna groans.
“I have no idea.”
It’s not a bad idea, although I doubt this ancient game system is worth much. I plug the thing into the outlet near my flat-screen TV. This little black box used to be a huge point of contention in our relationship. He spent more time fiddling with this than he did with me, a point I refuse to dwell on right now. Tonight is about fresh starts and new beginnings. I’m going to be working with one of my best friends in the whole world, and if tonight is any indication, it’s going to be fun.
We share a pizza and a bottle of merlot, and only make it halfway through season one, but I already have a notepad filled with ideas.
“No sex before monogamy. Genius rule.” Anna bites off a hunk of pizza crust, nodding along with the mantra from the show’s host and our new girl-crush, Patty Stranger.
“Amen, sister.” I raise my wineglass in salute. “This lady is a genius.”
“Do you think Sterling can do that?” Anna asks, narrowing her eyes.
I shrug. “No idea.”
Even though this lesson isn’t for me, per se, I’m picking up a lot of helpful tips too. For instance, did you know that a man wants a woman who is ladylike, polite, and respectful? It sounds old-fashioned, but apparently it’s true. I think it was Ludacris who said a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. So in addition to jotting down notes for my meeting with Sterling tomorrow, I write a few reminders for myself. Don’t call or chase after him excessively, and remember to say please and thank-you.
“I think I’m ready for tomorrow.” Surveying the notepad, I lean back and sink into the couch.
It’s filled with things like:
First-date kiss—acceptable.
No dick pics—ever. Not even when drunk. That should be another rule—no drunk texts.
No sex on the first or second dates.
“You’re going to kill it.” Anna nods.
“So, when do you start working with me officially?” I ask, setting the notebook aside.
“I’m all yours on Monday.”
I nod. “Cool. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” Her smile is wide and genuine.
After I walk her to the door, we share another hug.
“When are you meeting with Sterling?”
My gaze drifts to the wall behind her. “He asked me for dinner tomorrow night. At La Brasso.”
Anna frowns. “Hmm.”
“What?”
Shaking her head, she adjusts her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Nothing. That’s just a really romantic, intimate restaurant. I mean, I’ve heard, but I’ve never been there. Too rich for my blood.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t realize that.”
I have no idea why I said that, why I defended Sterling and downplayed it. The truth is, I have no idea why he asked me to dinner. We can handle all this through e-mail if we really want to.
Anna purses her lips, studying me, and then nods. “You’re right. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Awareness prickles at the back of my neck. “I’ll fill you in on everything. Talk soon.”
And then I’m standing there, tipsy and slightly confused, alone in my apartment.
It’s almost midnight, but I’m not tired. I grab the last slice of pizza and my laptop, and scurry off for my bed, slipping under the powder-soft duvet with a sigh.
With a mouthful of spicy pepperoni, I open my favorite social network and type in Sterling’s name.
His bright, magnetic smile beams back at me. Despite our close friends being married, he and I aren’t all that close. We’re acquaintances, at best. I’ve never friended him, and he’s never friended me. Which means my access to see his personal profile is limited. There are only a handful of pictures that I can see.
Scanning through them, I decide this isn’t technically stalking since I’ve been hired to work on managing his personal affairs. There’s a shot of him and Noah, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders at a charity golf event last summer. And another from Olivia and Noah’s wedding.
Wow, Sterling looks incredibly tempting in a tuxedo, but I already knew that. I wondered briefly at the wedding when he brought me a glass of champagne, and subtly flirted in that coy way he has, if we’d be the stereotypical maid of honor and best man who hooked up at our friend’s wedding. But it wasn’t to be. Sterling left early that evening, looking like there was something on his mind.
It’s weird how you can know someone for years, but really not know them at all. I have no idea what his favorite candy is, what type of underwear he wears—or if he even wears any, or what type of movies he favors. I don’t know his hopes or dreams. But something tells me I’m about to learn all of that, and a whole lot more. I just don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
Deciding it’s time to get to sleep so I’m fresh for my date tomorrow, I close my laptop and climb from the warm cocoon of my duvet to wash my face and get ready for bed. Toothbrush halfway to my mouth, I pause, my eyes flashing to the vanity mirror.
Tomorrow is not a date. There will be no dates with Sterling Quinn. That little pang of regret in my belly will just have to shove off.